


Dogs, Friends, and Other Things Found in Maine

by kenzz_95



Series: Trektober 2020 [10]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, No homophobia because the writer is queer and doesn't want to, Post WWII, Unintentional unofficial emotional support dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26916493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenzz_95/pseuds/kenzz_95
Summary: Leonard McCoy comes back from serving as a frontline doctor in World War 2 damaged and with nothing left for him in Georgia he retreats to a small coastal town in Maine. Slowly, with the help of a 3 legged dog, he begins to heal, and then everything changes for him for good when a charming man named Jim Kirk comes to town.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Series: Trektober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948633
Comments: 17
Kudos: 66
Collections: Trektober 2020





	Dogs, Friends, and Other Things Found in Maine

**Author's Note:**

> Trektober Day 10: Historical AU
> 
> This is set in this alternate 1948 where being queer is like...at max just a bit odd. This is because as a queer person my favorite thing about Star Trek fan fiction is not having to read about homophobia, and I therefore did not want to write about homophobia (I know some people like the angst of it, but it's not for me). Just suspend your disbelief for a bit.
> 
> Content warning: Bones is dealing with a bit depression and what would probably be called PTSD now. I don't go super into detail about it, and by the time the story starts he's already learning to heal and cope, but it is still a theme so watch out if that's something that could bother you.
> 
> This one sorta got away from me in terms of word count, sorry.

There was a man looking at him. Watching him. Finishing the last of his whiskey, Leonard ordered another from the bartender then looked back to his left, just out of the corner of his eye. Dammit, the guy was still looking at him. He had sandy blond hair, blue eyes that looked bright even in the dim lighting of the only goddamn bar in town, and was drinking a beer alone. And just  _ looking _ at Leonard. It made the underside of his skin itch. To make matters worse, he was certain he had never seen this man in his life. He would’ve remembered, if he had. The entire reason why he had moved up here to this no-name town in Maine, after he got back from from the war to find his wife had shacked up with someone else when he was away and his own goddamn daughter didn’t recognize him and he could barely get through a surgery without losing his mind anymore and being around people made him jumpy sometimes, was to be left alone. He had actually tried to retire from medicine altogether, but after only a few months he started to miss it like he would’ve missed his own right arm, like he had been trying to leave a core part of himself behind. So he had opened his own practice because there hadn’t been a proper doctor, let alone a hospital around these parts for miles, and he mostly did simple stuff, stuff he could handle without thinking about rows of boys bleeding out at the front while he had been largely helpless to do anything about it. Being the only doctor in town meant he knew everyone, all 639 of them, and he liked that. It made him feel safer. Being stared at by some blue eyed man he didn’t know in the bar did not make him feel safe or comfortable or anything of the sort.

He thought about asking the bartender about the guy, but then decided he didn’t care that much. It was getting tiring, though, so Leonard finally looked back at the mysterious man and snapped,

“Can I help you?”

The man stood up and walked over to where Leonard was sitting. Leonard could feel his shoulders tense, and caught his dog Baxter, who he had thought was asleep under his feet, sitting up. The man took a seat next to Leonard, looked down at Baxter, took a swig of his beer, then asked,   


“What’s with the dog, man?”

Leonard looked down at Baxter, who looked quite at ease given the fact that this man was a total stranger. The animal was curious, but not overtly threatened. Illogical as it was, Leonard often found himself taking his threat assessment cues from a damn dog. A damn dog that Leonard had not meant to get in the first place. Baxter had been a bit of a community stray until one day when one of the locals hit the dog with his car and brought the poor thing half dead into Leonard’s office even though Leonard had told these people time and time again that he was a doctor, not a vet, dammit. But he wasn’t about to just sit back and watch the thing die so he had done the best he could and then turned the dog back out onto the street again once it had sufficiently recovered. What Leonard didn’t count on was that the damn thing wouldn’t leave him alone and that he would be followed around by the newly three legged mutt that was probably 75% black lab and 25% something a bit scruffier for the foreseeable future. It didn’t take long for him to give up trying to shoo the dog away, and eventually he let the damn thing in his house and named it because apparently he was still a massive softy. Baxter had been following Leonard around for over a year now, never seeming to be too bothered by having one less leg than the average dog, and the locals had just gotten used to it. He wasn’t used to people asking him why a dog followed him around all the time. He found it weirdly invasive.

“Mind your own damn business,” Leonard finally told the man, voice rough with the whiskey he had been nursing all evening. He should probably cut himself off for the night, he realized. He was the only doctor in this town and sometimes people just showed up at his office-slash-house at random hours and he tried not to be completely inebriated when that happened.

The man did not mind his own damn business. “I didn’t think dogs were allowed in bars.”

“You got a problem with it?”

“Well, no, but it’s a bit weird.”

“I don’t really care what you think is a bit weird.”

“What’s his name, anyways?”

“Baxter,” Leonard replied, downed the rest of his whiskey and decided he was going to leave. He was not in the mood to make small talk with strangers. He never really was. He threw some money on the bar to cover his tab and stood up.

“And what’s your name?” the man asked him. Leonard thought about telling the man to fuck off, but for some reason answered anyways,

“McCoy. Leonard McCoy.”

“Jim Kirk,” the stranger said brightly, holding his hand out for a handshake. Leonard rolled his eyes and started to head for the door. Baxter trotted alongside him. “Your dog only has 3 legs,” the stranger called Jim Kirk pointed out.

“Oh my God, I had no idea,” Leonard drawled.

“What happened to this fourth leg?”

Damn this guy was nosy. “He lost it fightin’ the Nazis.”

Jim Kirk had this odd look on his face, obviously trying to figure out if there was any truth to that or not.

“He just got run over by a damn car,” Leonard said, saving this Jim guy the trouble of thinking about that at all. He didn’t wait to hear if Jim had anything else to say, though, and instead turned around and walked out of the bar.

Dogs were kind of smelly, and Baxter snored and drooled a lot, but Leonard let the dog sleep in his bed anyways. Baxter absolutely refused to sleep anywhere else, and he had given up trying. Plus, he had noticed that he tended to have less nightmares when Baxter had his big warm dog face all over his chest all night. It was grounding, in a way. It may have been more correlation than anything else, that in the past year since he had gotten Baxter he had just...started to heal a little. But he wasn’t going to kick the dog out regardless. 

Another pro of keeping his reluctantly gotten dog close at night was that if someone was at the door, Baxter was barking before the person even knocked. When it had first happened, it had sent Leonard into some kind of panic, but he had gotten used to it and actually appreciated the heads up now. So when Baxter’s barking woke Leonard up from a deep sleep one rainy night he just sighed and pulled himself out of bed, knowing a knock on the door was imminent. Ah, and there it was.

Leonard pulled on the thickest sweater he could find, padded down the stairs into his office, and yanked open the door to the outside, only to find himself face to face with a stranger. Wait, no, it wasn’t a stranger. It was that nosy blue eyed man from the bar a few weeks ago. Kirk, maybe. He was soaked to the bone, holding his left upper arm with his right hand, a somewhat frantic look in his bright blue eyes. And it was 2 in the goddamn morning.

“You’re the doctor?” maybe Kirk asked in a tone of voice that made it sound like he was trying  _ way _ too hard to be cheerful about whatever was happening here.

“It’s what it says on the door,” Leonard replied, “Now, assuming you’re here for medical care and not just to bother me in the middle of the night, come in, that cold rain will chill you to your bones.”

The man walked in. Baxter sniffed him, then turned around a few times and laid down in the corner, completely unbothered.

“What would you say if I wasn’t here for medical care?” the man asked, raising thick eyebrows at Leonard.

“I’d tell you to fuck off and leave me the hell alone. But with the way you’re holding that arm of yours I’m guessing you ain’t tryin’ to make a social call.”

Jim followed Leonard into the patient room in the back, hopped up on the table, and said in an altogether too happy tone of voice,

“So I got stabbed.”

“Jesus Christ. Can you take your shirt off?”

“Sure, but I’d appreciate it if you bought me dinner first,” Kirk - yeah, it was definitely Kirk - said with a smirk. Leonard felt like he had been punched in the stomach a bit. He was not used to getting comments like that from other guys, not in settings like this. Not that he minded, really. He more minded the fact that it was 2 in the goddamn morning and some guy with a stab wound was apparently trying to flirt with him.

When Kirk managed to pull himself out of his sweater, Leonard minded even less. He was a professional and he was  _ not _ going to check out his patients, not even when they looked like Jim. He swallowed hard because okay fine it had been a long time and Kirk was actually sort of gorgeous, and then turned his attention back to his work.

Kirk was still holding pressure to his upper arm.

“If you want me to look at it then you’re gonna have to take your hand off it,” Leonard said, and Jim nodded silently and pried a bloodied hand off his arm. Leonard couldn’t help but notice Jim was missing his pinky finger, everything above the first joint on his ring finger, and the tip of his middle finger. He didn’t say anything about it. There were bigger problems to attend to, and he had seen a lot of missing body parts on men their age since the war ended. Hell, he had done a lot of the amputations himself.

Leonard gave the wound a cursory examination, then hummed,

“Well, this ain’t so bad.”

“Feels a lot worse when it’s your arm,” Kirk pointed out. 

“I’ll get you something light for the pain, I can stitch this up here, if you’d like. Doesn’t look like you hit any major blood vessels, and it’s not extremely deep. This coulda been a lot worse.”

“Good, I hate hospitals. And I hate needles.”   


“Well I got some bad news for you about stitches, Kirk.”

“It’s Jim. You seem like you forgot.”

Leonard had forgotten that, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Instead he simply hummed again as he started to get his supplies out.

“You gonna tell me how you got this?” he asked Jim as he worked.

“You gonna tell me what the deal is with that dog?” Jim countered. Damn, he had forgotten about Jim’s fascination with Baxter.

“No, as that ain’t medically relevant. It’s a bit late for a bar fight,” he pointed out. The local bar closed at midnight, which in Leonard’s mind was absurd. The best kind of sorrowful, solitary whiskey drinking occured between the hours of midnight and 3 am, everyone knew that. Or maybe that was just him.

“I didn’t get in a  _ bar fight _ . Do I look 18 to you?

“Are you saying you did get into bar fights when you were 18?”

“And how is  _ that _ medically relevant?

Leonard sighed, figuring he could try to wait Jim out. That worked with some people. And it seemed that Jim was one of them because after a few moments of silence he sighed,

“I wasn’t at the bar, I was down by the docks.”

“At 2 am in the rain?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d take a walk. Found a few men trying to rough up some girl, I told them to leave her alone and, well, it turns out I brought my fists to a knife fight. I went home, but turns out it’s deeper than I thought.”

“The woman?” Leonard asked, wondering if he was going to end up with another patient that night.

“She ran away when the guys were distracted. I don’t think she was hurt.”

Leonard nodded as he started stitching up Jim’s arm. It was nothing particularly complicated, but it felt good to be doing this again. Maybe he’d have to give surgery another shot at some point. Maybe it had been enough time that he could handle it now, even though he knew time was hardly the only factor. 

“Where are you from? I haven’t seen you around here before.” he asked as he stitched. Jim was sitting perfectly still, face completely impassive. Leonard didn’t doubt he’d experienced things more painful than a handful of stitches on his arm, but he wasn’t about to pry into that. 

“How is  _ that _ medically relevant?” Jim challenged and damnit, the man had a point. But he liked to talk while he worked, which most people wouldn’t guess about him, so he figured he could keep the conversation going on his own.

“I’m from Georgia, born and raised. Moved up here a few years back.”

“Hence the accent. Makes sense,” Jim nodded thoughtfully, “I grew up in Iowa, but I’ve been around. I’m finishing up college down in Massachusetts, all I’ve got left is this nightmare of a paper to write, and one of my friend’s cousins has a place up here and needed a house sitter so I volunteered. They pay for cost of living stuff and occasional train rides back into Cambridge, and I make sure nobody steals all their shit. Seems like a win win.”

“Cambridge? Harvard?” Leonard asked. Jim didn’t really look like the Ivy League type, although he wasn’t entirely sure what that type did look like.

“Hell no,” Jim laughed, “MIT.”

“You say that as though it’s supposed to be less impressive somehow.”

“Well, ya know, GI bill,” Jim shrugged.

“Quit moving when I’ve got a needle in your arm,” Leonard snapped, “And besides, the government may be paying your way but you still had to get in and get through. What’re you studying down there?”

“Engineering. Mechanical, but more specifically aeronautical. Say, do you know this Scottish guy who comes up here occasionally, you probably would’ve seen him in the bar if anywhere.”

“Maybe, rings a bell. Is that your friend?”

“Yeah. He’s a PhD student, probably one of the smartest people I know. His cousin lives up here for some reason. He apparently worked on the Manhattan Project, but then they kicked him off. Or he quit. Or maybe both? It’s unclear. So, what about you?”   


“What about me?”   


“How’d you end up here? What’d you do for school? Doesn’t seem fair for you to make me talk about myself but you won’t say anything about your own history.”   


“I didn’t make you say shit,” Leonard grumbled, “And I’ll give you one guess what I studied in school, kid.”

“How are you calling me kid? You’re, like, my age.”

“I don’t think so, kid. I’m well past 30 by now, and there’s no way you’re close.”

“Define ‘well past’ for me.”

“32,” Leonard admitted and Jim barked out a laugh that was actually really a lovely sound, although he had to tell him once again to stop moving.

“I see they didn’t teach you rounding in medical school,” Jim teased, “I’m nearly 27. Not that different.”

“You’re still a kid,” he insisted. It was less about Jim’s age and more about the youthful look in those bright blue eyes, one that Leonard hadn’t seen in the mirror in quite some time. Jim rolled his eyes but was briefly silent while Leonard tied off his stitches and lightly wrapped his arm in gauze.

“Keep that clean and dry,” Leonard instructed as Jim was pulling his shirt back on, “And keep off that arm for a while. Come back ‘round here in 10 days and I’ll take those out for you.”

Jim wasn’t making a move to leave, he was still leaning against the wall casually and petting Baxter. 

“So, are you gonna ask?”

“Ask about what?”

In response, Jim simply raised his right hand and wiggled what was left of his partial fingers, eyebrows drawn in a challenge. Leonard shook his head,

“Figured you didn’t come in for that, not my business what happened. Although, if I’m being honest, and since you brought it up, whoever took those off did a real shit job.”

“You think you could do better then?”

“Know I can. I haven’t always been some back country doctor, I was a surgeon once upon a time.”

“What happened to that?”

“What happened to your fingers?” Leonard hoped the response would shut this line of questioning down, as neither of them wanted to talk about those particular subject matters, but apparently Jim was more willing to talk than he’d thought.

“Stupid fucking accident, really. Made it through the whole war without any major issues then one day in ‘44 I was working on my plane back on the base in England and put my fingers somewhere they shouldn’t have been. It was a real dumb mistake.”

“You have to sit out the last year?”

“Hell no. You can still fly with less fingers than average, and good pilots who still had a pulse were hard to come by at that point. You’re up, how the hell did you end up here?”

Leonard had half a mind to kick Jim out on his ass. He didn’t owe the kid shit. But for some reason he couldn’t manage to do it. Instead, he sighed,

“I was already working as a surgeon before the war, so they obviously threw me on the front as a doctor. I wouldn’t have wanted to do anything else anyways, but I figured I could just come right back to the life I had before when the war was over.”

“It wasn’t that simple?” Jim guessed and Leonard nodded,

“Yeah, you could say that. I needed a change of pace from what was waiting back home for me in Atlanta. Somehow I ended up here.”

“You’re running.”

“I wouldn’t say  _ that _ .”

“Bones, you’re talking to the number one expert when it comes to running away from problems. I know running when I see it. Anyways, I should get out of your hair. Thanks, doc. See you around.”

Jim, no less confusing for having had a conversation with him, awkwardly pulled his arms through his jacket and walked out the door of Leonard’s office without another word, and before Leonard could even realize that the other man had called him something that was definitely not his name. But by the time he shouted, “Did you just call me ‘ _ Bones _ ’?” the door was closed and there was no way Jim could’ve heard him. Dammit. Dammit all. That had been one hell of a weird appointment.

Suddenly, Leonard was seeing Jim Kirk everywhere. The first two times were complete accidents. The two days following those late night stitches, Leonard had ended up at the bar, where Jim had also been. The two talked. Leonard tried to pretend their conversations were against his will. They weren’t. The third day, he intentionally went to the bar in the hopes that he would see Jim there. It had been years since he’d had a friend, and the experience of having someone to talk to...it wasn’t a terrible one. And then there was the fact, decided on their fourth night in that bar when he’d drunk far too much bourban, that Leonard was going to fuck Jim Kirk.

That was a weird conclusion for him to come to as well. The fact was, Leonard was currently in the midst of a dry spell that had been stretching on an embarrassingly long time. He’d been married when he went off to war, and that commitment had meant something to him, obviously more than it had meant to Jocelyn. And then after...he hadn’t really been in the mood. Something about the weird, dark, probably combat fatigue adjacent place he had fallen into after spending several years practicing war time medicine only to come home to find he had nothing left here either had just sucked that drive right from him. It had been coming back, a little, as of late, but as Leonard laid in bed that night and pondered the blue of Jim’s eyes, the slope of his shoulders, and the panes of his chest, he realized that Jim was the first person he’d really craved in that way in  _ years _ . And Jim was interested, too. Probably. Or maybe he was just that flirty with everyone. Regardless, if Jim  _ was  _ interested, Leonard was going to take him to bed and take him apart. Small town gossip be damned.

Meeting at the bar at 7 pm and drinking - mostly lightly - and talking for hours seemed to become Jim and Leonard’s sort of unspoken arrangement. One of these days, Leonard was going to ask Jim to come home with him. But every time he considered it, he backed out because Jim was fast becoming his friend, a good friend, and could he be friends with the guy he was fucking? Would that even work? Friendship was important, too, and provided something that Leonard could not achieve with his own hand. So he kept hesitating, over and over again. On the ninth day, the day before Jim was due to come in and get his stitches out, Leonard ran into him by accident for the first time in about a week of intentional encounters. 

Leonard was on the beach, clothed in a thick knit sweater and a beanie, throwing a ball along the rocky shore for Baxter. The dog would sometimes dart in and out of the cold waves, unbothered by the temperature or his missing leg. Leonard walked steadily down the so-called beach with Baxter, mist blowing off the ocean and chilling his hands. This was something he had never done before Baxter came into his life. His first two years here, he’d barely left his office. He certainly never got any kind of physical activity. But Baxter had changed that because dammit that dog was annoying if he didn’t get a walk in each day. So Leonard walked too. He found he enjoyed it. 

Usually he didn’t see anyone else out on the beach, especially not in weather like this, but in the distance he caught sight of a familiar figure. Despite himself, he waved. The figure waved back, and approached him.

Jim Kirk was wearing a bomber jacket, obviously his own from the war, featuring “Cpt J.Kirk” stitched onto a patch on the breast. Oh, so Jim had been an officer. Interesting. He was smiling easily, all white teeth and blue eyes and a face that they could’ve used on a damn propaganda poster, and he was wearing that smile for Leonard. Leonard bit his lip and swallowed hard. Even out here, in the chill of the fall air and the dreariness of the sunless skies, Jim was the brightest, most gorgeous thing he’d ever laid his eyes on. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he was so gorgeous and so genuinely  _ good _ and it wasn’t fair that Leonard knew it could never be just a quick fuck with Jim. It wasn’t fair.

“Hiya, Bones!” Jim greeted him, slapping him on the back and shooting him one of those damn infectious smiles. There was that infernal nickname again. Leonard refused to admit it was growing on him. Before he could say anything back, Baxter came bounding out of the water, ball in his mouth, and dropped it at Jim’s feet, looking up at the man expectantly. Baxter, usually a bit hesitant with people, had loved Jim from the moment they’d met. Leonard considered that a good sign. Baxter was a very good judge of people.

“You gonna throw the ball or just stand there looking at it?” he asked, as Jim hadn’t made a move for the ball Baxter had dropped at his feet and the dog was still just staring at him.

“You don’t mind?” Jim asked, picking up the ball hesitantly.

“Just throw the damn ball.”

Jim threw it, but somewhat lamely. Baxter bounced forward to retrieve it, barked once, then dropped the ball at Jim’s feet again.

“Throw it like ya mean it,” Leonard told him, then picked up the ball himself and threw it hard and just slightly into the line of the waves. “He likes when you throw it in the water, but just a little. I ain’t about to get in there to rescue him if he gets swept out to see, not this time of year.”

This time, when Baxter dropped the ball at Jim’s feet, he picked it up with his left hand and lobbed it hard and far, allowing Baxter to run after it happily, tail wagging as he retrieved.

“It doesn’t seem to bother him much,” Jim pointed out, certainly talking about the way Baxter was running down the beach, unbothered by his missing leg, although the loping was a bit lopsided.

“He’s adapted,” Leonard shrugged, “Same as you.”

Jim flexed his right hand then curled it into a fist again. Too late, Leonard wondered if he had said the wrong thing. It had been a while since he’d had a friend, he was a bit rusty. But Jim didn’t look hurt or offended, he just nodded and hummed a note in affirmation. It had been interesting, the past week, to notice what things Jim still did with his right hand and which he did with his left. He still wrote with his right despite the missing tip of his middle finger, seemed to switch up hands when he was drinking, and when he had thrown the ball for Baxter he had used his left. Leonard was fully ambidextrous, and he could tell Jim wasn’t there yet and still favored his right, but he’d been missing the fingers for several years and had obviously adapted.

“It’s a bit of a cold day for a walk,” Jim noted, throwing the ball for Baxter again. Usually Leonard liked to have Baxter near when he was talking with people, but he found he didn’t mind being more on his own with Jim. 

“He’s a nightmare if he doesn’t get exercised, starts chewing up everything in my office. He doesn’t mind the cold.”

“And how about you, Georgia boy?”

“I manage,” Leonard said gruffly, wrapping his arms around himself for effect. He figured he’d never truly be used to weather like this. And it was just going to get worse. “I’ve had worse, though.”

“Were you stationed in Europe, then?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, jarred as he always was at the ease with which Jim casually mentioned the war. Leonard wasn’t used to talking about it at all. Maybe one day he’d ask Jim why that was, but he was pretty sure they didn’t know each other well enough yet for that conversation. He figured he’d just change the subject to something safer. “You gonna come in and get those stitches out anytime soon?”

“You said ten days,” Jim reminded him, allowing the shift in topic. “It’s only been nine days.”

“Ya know, I do take appointments.”   


“You’ll see me when you see me. I don’t like doctors.”

“And yet you’re always talking to me anyways,” Leonard pointed out and Jim smiled,

“Maybe I’m developing an exception.”

Leonard’s office hours typically ended at 6, which is exactly the time when Jim Kirk came striding through his door, the smile on his face making Leonard wonder if he realized he was technically coming in after hours.

“I’m closed,” he said, indicating the sign in the window where he’d written out his usual hours.

“You said to come in after 10 days to get my stitches out. It’s been 10 days,” Jim shrugged, as though that much should be obvious.

“Yes, and technically non emergency cases should be making appointments. I have a phone number and everything.”   


“I don’t have a phone.”

“You’ve seen me every day for 10 days! You could’ve just  _ told _ me when you wanted to come in.”   


“I don’t like appointments. Sometimes I get really focused on my project and I don’t want to have to make myself leave. Besides, I figured if I made sure I was your last appointment of the day then we could go out for drinks after.”

Leonard didn’t say anything right away, trying to understand where his annoyance had gone. It was like as soon as Jim mentioned wanting to spend time with him, he couldn’t be angry anymore. 

“I can come back tomorrow if you want,” Jim offered when Leonard still hadn’t said anything. He looked more apologetic than he ever had since they’d met. Leonard shook his head,

“It’s fine. Come on back, let’s get this over with.”

It had been an hour since Leonard finished removing Jim’s stitches, and they were still talking in the exam room. Talking to Jim was weirdly easy, just like it always was, and Leonard didn’t even realize it had been an hour until Baxter trotted in the exam room carrying his empty food bowl, obviously confused as to why he hadn’t been fed dinner yet. And come to think of it, Leonard was pretty hungry too.

“If you still want to get a drink, I can wait here while you feed Baxter then we can go,” Jim offered, his expression guarded in a way that made it seem like he was offering a lot more than what he was actually saying. Leonard looked back at Jim, who was still sitting shirtless on the exam table, posture relaxed and piercing blue eyes bright and happy, and he realized he sort of wanted to talk to Jim forever, among other things as well. So he did something he hadn’t done since he’d been dating his ex wife.

“I haven’t eaten yet either. Do you want to come upstairs? I can throw us some dinner together and then we can have a drink or two here. I’ve got some good bourbon I’ve been saving,” he asked, feeling oddly nervous about the request. As it turns out, though, there was no reason to be because Jim’s beautiful eyes lit up and he shot Leonard a smile that he felt in every inch of his body as he readily agreed to the plan.

Leonard didn’t know who started kissing who first. He was sure it couldn’t possibly be him who moved on Jim after dinner and a drink for each of them, but the more he thought about it the less sure he was. But no matter who started it, the fact remained that they were kissing, hurried and hot and oh so good. It had been so long, too long, and for a while he hadn’t wanted it or missed it but as he pressed Jim into his bed it was like all the time he could’ve been missing it came rushing back to him. Jim was a fantastic kisser, and it was oh so easy to get swept along with him, and when Jim moaned that goddamn nickname as Leonard ground down into him that single syllable was the most beautiful one in the world.

Jim hitched a leg around Leonard’s hips, moved his hands from his ass to his shoulders, and rolled them over so Leonard was below him. Jim placed a knee on each side of Leonard’s hips and straddled him, only the fabric of their trousers separating the erections they already had, despite the short amount of time they had been doing this. When Jim sat down on his hips, it took all Leonard had not to groan. By the look on Jim’s face, it didn’t seem like he did a very good job. 

“Hey, Bones,” Jim greeted him with a smile, dropping hands to each side of his face. The position was inherently vulnerable, and he knew that not long ago being caged in like this would have sent him into a panic, but he felt safe like this, despite the short amount of time he’d known Jim.

“Yeah, Jim?” he asked, looking up at the other man’s beautiful blue eyes.

“Is Baxter going to just sit here and watch while I fuck you into the bed?” Jim asked, nodding his head towards the dog who was lying at the foot of the bed and looking at both of them, not knowing or caring about the importance of human privacy. But Leonard was more hung up on something else Jim had said.

“Oh,” he laughed, somewhat breathless from the kissing, “Is that what you think is going to happen?”

“How do you think this is going to happen?” Jim asked, amusement dancing in those bright blue eyes, even in the lower light of Leonard’s bedroom. Leonard brought a hand up and ran it along Jim’s side and chest, thumbing a nipple just long enough to elicit a sharp intake of breath from the other man.

“The way I figured it,” he drawled, playing up his accent a bit as he’d noticed Jim liked it, “I’d be the one fucking  _ you _ into the bed. Seeing as it’s my bed and all.”

Jim stared at him for a moment, pupils blown wide, then nodded,

“Fine. But we’re gonna have to do this again. Taking turns, ya know. It’s only fair.”

“Of course,” Leonard agreed with a bit of a laugh. Oh, so this wasn’t just going to be a one time hookup for Jim. That was fine with him. Sure, they hadn’t actually had sex yet, but he could see himself wanting to do this again. And again and again.

“But seriously,” Jim said, getting them back to his original question, “Is the dog gonna be here the whole time? ‘Cause I know he’s like your shadow, but it’s kinda freaking me out.”

Leonard laughed again. God, he was doing that a lot lately, and not just since they’d started kissing. “Baxter, go lie down.”

Jim looked like he was about to question the effectiveness of such a simple command, but when Baxter stood up and walked back into the living room to lie on the couch, any complaints effectively died on his lips, which was good because there were better things for those pretty little lips to be doing anyways.

Maybe, in hindsight, Leonard should’ve let Jim fuck him instead of the other way around, because as it turns out after such a lengthy dry spell he lasted an embarassingly short amount of time. Except it wasn’t embarrassing, actually, and Jim never mentioned it. It was mostly just good. Really, really good. And he wasn’t sure what was going to happen when they were done, he wasn’t sure what the nature of their relationship exactly was at that point, but when he came back to bed with a washcloth for them both to clean up, Jim smiled up at him, slow and lazy and it dawned on him that this was maybe a bit more than a hot and dirty quick fuck. Maybe that thought should’ve scared him, but as Jim rested his head on Leonard’s chest, all he felt was peace. More peace than he’d felt in a while.

“So,” Jim said after they had been...shit, they were cuddling, weren’t they? Damn. Well, after they’d been cuddling for a while, Baxter had wandered back into the bedroom and laid down at the end of Leonard’s bed. Jim looked at the dog, then back to Leonard. “What’s with the dog, man?”

Leonard rolled his eyes, “Don’t tell me you took me to bed just to get me all sex-sated and loose-lipped so you could make me talk about the dog. It’s just a damn dog, Jim.”

“Uh, counter point, you took me to bed. As you pointed out earlier, it’s  _ your _ bed,” Jim reminded him.

“Baxter was a stray, got hit by a car last year, someone brought him in here because he never would’ve made it to the vet several towns over,” he started, not really sure what was compelling him to finally tell this story. He supposed, though, it wasn’t all that personal. “I took his leg off, fixed him up best I could, and then he never left me alone after that. Eventually I quit fightin’ it. He’s...good company.”

“Of course he loves you. You saved him,” Jim pointed out, not sounding nearly as self-satisfied as Leonard figured he would when he finally pried the truth about Baxter out of him.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“And he saved you too, didn’t he?” Jim guessed. Leonard hadn’t really thought of it that way. But things had improved a lot for him since he’d gotten Baxter the year prior. The daily walks, the forced routine, the comfort and companionship had all helped him immensely. He felt better than he had in years, if he was being honest with himself, and it wasn’t just the post-coital glow saying that.

“‘Suppose so,” he finally admitted, “It’s stupid, he’s just a damn dog, but he’s a friend. The only one I’ve had in awhile.”

“Well now you’ve got another,” Jim smiled softly, “Human this time. I’ll still hump your leg, though.”

The shocking statement was completely at odds with Jim’s warm smile. Leonard sputtered for a moment then elbowed Jim in the ribs,

“ _ Baxter _ is better trained than that. I don’t figure most people fuck their friends, though I’ll admit I’m a bit out of practice with the whole concept.”

“Friends or fucking?” Jim asked and because, really, Jim was his friend, there was no other way to slice it at that point, Leonard simply said,

“Both.”

“Well, I’m happy to let you practice on me whenever. Whichever you like.”

“I may have to take you up on that.”

Jim smiled again, and Leonard smiled back, more genuine than a smile from him had been in a long time, so he did something he hadn’t expected to do again.

“Stay over,” he offered.

“People will talk,” Jim pointed out, more of a statement of fact than an argument. Leonard rolled his eyes,

“Let them.”

Leonard saw Jim Kirk every day. They didn’t always end up in bed together, although God it was good when they did. Sometimes they got drinks, or walked along the beach holding hands and not giving a shit what the locals thought, or had dinner together, or sometimes Jim just brought over stacks of books for the project he was working on and they sat together in silence, both working on something different. It had never been discussed in such outright terms, but by pretty much every definition they were dating. Leonard grew to trust Jim quickly, more than he’d trusted anyone in a while. With Jim, he felt safe. He had forgotten what it was like to be loved. But it all had a big hard wall at the end, because after this term finished up Jim was graduating and then moving back to Boston where he had a job lined up for him. It was temporary, but the more time he spent with Jim the harder it got to remind himself of that.

It was a windy, rainy early December night when things changed again. They were in bed and Jim was riding him hard, because damn did the man know how to take a dick and God was he a sight on top of Leonard like that, all sweat covered muscles and hot blue eyes and the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen in his life. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, Jim moaned, fluttered his eyelids, and gasped,

“God, Bones, I love you.”

Leonard came pretty much as soon as he said that. He realized as he was curled up with Jim in his bed immediately after that it had been years since he’d heard anyone say those words to him. He hadn’t heard them since he was leaving Jocelyn behind at the train station before the war. It felt damn good to hear, even if they had simply been the result of great sex. He had to know, though.

“Did’ya mean it?” he asked as Jim ran his fingers through his hair lazily. Jim seemed to know exactly what Leonard was referring to and hummed a lazy note of affirmation,

“Of course I did. I’m in love with you, Bones. It’s okay if you can’t say it back, but you should know.”

Leonard nodded, something burning, hot but good, deep in his chest, then said,

“So, I used to be married.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I have a daughter.”

“Wait,  _ really _ ?”

“I came back from the war to find my ex-wife shaked up with another man and my baby girl calling him daddy.”

Jim flinched. With how close they were, Leonard could feel it.

“Holy shit, Bones. I’m so sorry,” Jim said, “I’m so sorry. Damn. I don’t know what to say.”

“I thought at least I still had work. But when I was in surgery all I would see was all those boys bleeding out on the front, screaming for their mothers, having to take limbs off without anesthesia, knowing that somebody out there had penicillin somewhere but it damn well wasn’t us…” Leonard paused and took a deep, shaking breath. It was never going to be easy to talk about it. “So I left. You’re right, I ran away. I couldn’t give up medicine, though. I tried, but…”   


“It’s part of you,” Jim finished for him, “Being a doctor isn’t just a job for you. I’ve seen it.”

“Yeah. Well, things were easier here. It was a small town, I didn’t feel so damn jumpy. I ran but I wasn’t running when you met me. By then, I was hiding.”

“But you’re doing better.” It wasn’t a question but Leonard nodded because it was true. 

“Sometimes I feel insane because it’s like I’m the only one who came back from the war better adjusted than when I left,” Jim admitted, “I’ve told you about my childhood, and the military provided a sense of order and stability, even in all the chaos of war. I don’t mean to...I mean it was terrible, right? But my commanding officer became like my father and being a pilot is different. Not better, God I lost so many friends over there, but thousands of feet up we were more removed I guess. That came with its own set of problems, but...I don’t know how to explain it. But I was a real piece of work pre-1942.”

“You don’t have to explain it.”

“Neither do you.”

Leonard felt seen, more than he’d ever allowed anyone to see him in years. It was a good feeling, even if it was a bit scary.

“Come with me to Boston,” Jim requested after a few moments of silence between the pair. 

“I’ve got a packed day Saturday, Jim, I can’t.”

“I don’t mean this weekend. I mean in general. I’m a few weeks from graduation, I’ve got that job offer in Boston...come with me.”

Leonard felt like he’d been knocked off his feet, but in a good way, if that was even a thing. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to leave this town without a doctor, but maybe it was time he stopped hiding here. And, God, it was Jim. 

“Are you asking me to move in with you? What will the neighbors say?” Leonard teased, not giving a damn what any hypothetical neighbors thought of the two men living together in some random Boston apartment. Or maybe even a house just outside of town.

Jim snorted, “Who the fuck cares what the neighbors say? And that’s a yes, by the way. I am asking you to move in with me. If that’s what you want. But I’m not ready for this to be done and I don’t think you are either.”

“Do we have to live in the city itself?”

“Not necessarily. I get that may be a bit much for you, and I can always take the train in.” Jim’s eyes were shining brightly. He knew that was a yes.

“It’s just there’s this really interesting heart study just startin’ up at some hospital in Framingham and I wouldn’t mind getting my hands in that,” Leonard admitted. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to go back to surgery yet, but maybe being a research physician at a hospital would be a good middle ground between that and what he was doing now. He’d been thinking about that for a while, if he was being honest.

“Oh, hell yes. Hell yes. Dr. Bones, back at it again. So is that a yes?” Jim asked, eyes searching for confirmation of what he obviously already knew. Leonard smiled and kissed Jim quickly,

“That’s a yes. And for the record, Jim, I love you too.”

“I know,” Jim grinned, and Leonard’s heart stuttered. He never would’ve guessed he would get something this good. And it wasn’t ending. He had a feeling that it was only the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Just like a little fun fact, the heart study Bones was talking about at the end is the Framingham Heart Study, it's a real thing still ongoing that actually started in 1948.
> 
> This is also the closest I've ever gotten to writing a sex scene, and may be the closest I get lmao


End file.
